


Lay Your Head Down

by Tah the Trickster (TahTheTrickster)



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Blood Kink, F/F, Knifeplay, Knives, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Poison, Power Dynamics, Rope Bondage, You Feel Your Sins Crawling Down Your Back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 14:43:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17624363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TahTheTrickster/pseuds/Tah%20the%20Trickster
Summary: “You’re playing a dangerous game, Fortune,” she warned, heat thrumming through her blood for all Fortune’s boldness irked her.“I like games,” Fortune said mildly, her hands sliding languidly up Katarina’s thighs. She paused at the blades sheathed there, lightly running her thumbs over the edges, making Katarina twitch. Fortune winked. “Get the feeling you do too.”





	Lay Your Head Down

**Author's Note:**

> take this and Get Away From Me, none of you are free of sin
> 
> you read the tags. i will not apologize for art

It was rare occurrence for the du Couteau household to receive guests. It was even rarer for said guests to arrive unannounced. Such a familiar, informal action committed towards one of the highest houses of nobility in Noxus’ High Command was at best a serious faux pas, and at worst a mark of deep insult.

Somehow, though, when the caller was one Captain Sarah Fortune, any perceived slight went directly out the window.

Rough as Bilgewater was, precious few even in the Noxus capital could match Captain Fortune for charm, wit, and charisma, and she readily played the knowledge to her advantage. Whatever hesitation the guard had upon admitting her was easily smoothed over with flowery reassurances, a light brush of fingertips over knuckles, an agreement to willingly hand over her weapons while on the estate’s grounds...

And if those guards had been too distracted by her tits and flirting to notice the dagger Fortune kept at her boot, that was their own fault.

Alas, dealings with Noxus nobility required so much decorum. The small, flustered commotion at the estate entrance had drawn the attentions of the youngest of the noble house, though Fortune could hardly call that a surprise. The more...  _ socially-minded _ of the three du Couteau children, Cassiopeia had always been an individual Fortune treated with a healthy amount of suspicion. Just because she didn’t match her siblings’ grace with a blade didn’t mean she wasn’t out for blood. Fortune could respect the fine arts of seduction and information-gathering, herself, but all the same, she was uninterested in having her own trade plied on her.

Still. No reason to be rude about it.

“Captain Fortune,” Cassiopeia greeted civilly, a polite smile already appearing on her slender face. Fortune could already feel her piercing gaze slicing her appearance down to bone, seeking the reason for her unannounced appearance. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Fortune doffed her captain’s hat politely, tucking it under an arm as she stepped into the entryway. “The pleasure, I assure you, is all mine, Lady Cassiopeia,” she drawled, taking Cassiopeia’s proffered hand in her own. She dipped her head, brushing her lips over her knuckles—a slightly-outdated gesture, but still plenty respectful enough for Noxian nobility, with just enough dramatic flair to suit her.

Cassiopeia’s smile edged on a smirk when she took her hand back. Even her unshakeable demeanor was still susceptible to a little playful flirting. “You flatter me, Captain. What brings you all the way to High Command?”

“Business, as ever,” was as much an answer as Fortune was ever willing to give on the matter. “A woman’s work is never done, as I’m sure you know.”

Cassiopeia hummed in agreement, glancing her over a second time, looking for any additional clues. But Fortune knew well how to mask her intent in all forms.

If Cassiopeia was irked with her silence, she didn’t let it show, simply tapping a finger thoughtfully to her lips. “To the best of my knowledge, you have no current business with father... Shall I presume you’re here to see my sister, then?” She gestured for Fortune to follow as she turned to lead them to a spartan parlor that clearly saw little use. Cassiopeia heaved a wistful sigh as she ran her fingers over a nearby side table, frowning at the thin layer of dust that had settled onto the otherwise elegant furniture. “You really must come by for a proper visit sometime, Captain,” she commented idly, brushing her fingers off. “I’m afraid we’re so rarely in the position to entertain on such short notice.”

“Through no fault but my own,” Fortune assured her. “And—you presume correctly.”

Cassiopeia’s smile was scarcely gossamer over the disdain Fortune knew she held for her sister’s... relations. Still: polite, gracious as ever. Nothing less would do. “Allow me to go send for her, then.” She turned to leave, but for a gentle touch against her wrist that regardless held her in place like a manacle.

“If I may be so bold,” Fortune begged her pardon, “I did have something to ask of you as well, my Lady.”

Cassiopeia turned around again. Her smile dropped in an instant at the sight of the tiny stoppered vial Fortune held between her thumb and forefinger. Fortune waggled the glass, half-tauntingly, shaking the dark, iridescent powder inside.

“Where did you—?”

“Good coin says you’ve got an eye for sneaky little tricks like this one,” Fortune interrupted, leaning against the wall as though having a casual conversation. “And I need some information on it.” She raised a brow, expectant.

“I’m not sure what you mean to imply, Captain,” Cassiopeia began evenly, her eyes still locked on the vial, “but I can assure you I don’t...”

She trailed off as Fortune tutted, shaking her head. “Such a stickler for  _ formalities, _ my Lady. Miss Fortune is just fine. We’re friends, aren’t we? Or close enough to it.” Her cold blue eyes watched Cassiopeia sharply, patiently. Cassiopeia met the gaze without flinching. “Let’s not dance around pretenses, hm? A favor for a favor. I’ll even be nice and stay quiet about your supplier for free.” She lightly rolled the glass container across her knuckles and back. “And I’ll owe you a favor in turn.”

Cassiopeia’s gaze flickered from the vial to Fortune’s eyes. “You’ve already had it slipped to you, haven’t you?” she realized with a small, cruel smirk. “You’re not that selfless... Miss Fortune.”

Fortune seemed wholly unbothered by the recognition. “Guilty, I’m afraid.” She shrugged a shoulder. “The barkeep responsible has had his due already.” She drummed her fingers once over the tooled leather holster at her hip.

“And you want to know how long you have.”

The thin smile Fortune offered her was not a nice expression. “It’s not lethal.”

“You wanted information, no?”

Fortune wagged a finger at her, gently chastising. “If it was lethal, you wouldn’t be giving me this runaround trying to get better leverage in this little deal of ours,” Fortune said, shaking her head as if disappointed. “You’d have already turned it down. Dead men don’t fill their bargains. Please do give me  _ some _ credit,  _ Madame du Couteau. _ ”

Cassiopeia’s smile thinned. She lifted her chin nonetheless. “It’s prohibitively expensive,” she said stiffly. “Drake Silkweed only grows in an extremely remote part of the jungle just north of Icathia, and is notoriously difficult to acquire. The seeds, when ground into a fine powder like this, cause a significant spike in pain tolerance, and even stop the heart entirely if  _ dosed correctly _ .” There was some scorn in her voice at the clearly-botched attempt.

“Huh.” Fortune absently tossed the vial into the air, catching it in the same hand. “Why blow the coin on it and not triple-check the dosage?”

She made a noncommittal noise, reaching out to pluck the vial from Fortune’s lax grip. “Unlike many poisons, most of the compounds in this can be broken down in the liver,” she said, holding it up to the light with a critical eye. “Used properly, it’s nearly untraceable in an autopsy. That’s why dosing is important. Too much and it’s easily traced in the bloodstream; too little, and not only are the glycosides broken down before they can cause cardiac failure, the victim also begins to build up an immunity.” Cassiopeia shook her head and handed it back, dismissive. “I wouldn’t take the attempt very seriously. A vial this small wouldn’t hold a full dose. An amateur error from one with more coin than comprehension.”

The sound of footsteps on the stairs gave them both pause: far too light to be a guard, not nearly composed enough to be a servant. Evidently the day’s commotion hadn’t summoned  _ only _ the youngest of the household.

Fortune straightened up again, slipping the poison into a small pouch at her hip. “As bright as you are charming, Lady Cassiopeia,” she drawled, a crooked smile twitching at a corner of her scarlet lips. “As ever, it’s been a delight to spend time in your company.”

Cassiopeia gave a soft, polite laugh, offering her hand again. Fortune grasped it easily, running a gloved thumb over her fingers. “And it is  _ always _ a pleasure to see you, too, Captain,” Cassiopeia assured her. Her cold, calculating eyes flickered over Fortune’s steely blue gaze, searching, searching. Her voice dropped only slightly, rough with intent: “I look forward to our  _ future affairs _ drawing you back sometime soon.”

There: a flicker of annoyance in Fortune’s eyes at the reminder of her offered  _ favor _ . Cassiopeia’s grin widened just slightly, pleased with having twisted the knife that much deeper.

It was gone as quickly as it appeared, and Fortune bowed politely, bringing Cassiopeia’s hand to her lips again. “As the Lady wishes.”

“Fortune, if you kiss my sister I might actually,  _ genuinely _ vomit.” Katarina’s voice was heavy with disdain as she rounded the corner, lips curling in disgust as the captain straightened up again, eyes alight with mischief. “The hell are you even doing here?  _ Besides _ hitting on my sister,  _ again. _ ”

“Here to see you of course,” Fortune said mildly, grinning at her approach, clearly far more relaxed in Katarina’s presence. “Got slipped some expensive poison, might be a lil fucky for the next couple hours, needed a secure place to ride it out.”

Those venomous green eyes flashed sharply to her sister. “ _ Cass— _ ”

“ _ I _ have no qualms with Captain Fortune,  _ sister, _ ” Cassiopeia scoffed, reaching up to draw her knuckles boldly over Fortune’s jawline. “Besides, it would truly be a waste of such a pretty face.” Fortune smirked openly, tilting her head just enough to let Cassiopeia’s hand graze down her throat.

Katarina slapped her sister’s hand away, baring her teeth. “ _ Hands off _ . I mean it.” She jabbed a finger in Cassiopeia’s direction. “Stop being  _ fucking weird. _ ” Cassiopeia offered her an innocent smile just to fan the flames.

“Touchy,” Fortune noted, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

Katarina rounded on her. “ _ You _ .” She grabbed the lapel of Fortune’s jerkin, giving her a rough shake, scowling. “ _ Stop flirting with my damn sister _ .”

Fortune’s brows rose, a glimmer of intrigue in those bright blue eyes. “You’re  _ feisty _ today,” she purred, just enough heat to her voice to make Katarina falter.

Katarina cast a lingering, suspicious look at her sister before muttering “Come on” and yanking Fortune back towards the stairs by her collar. Fortune nodded and tipped her hat in Cassiopeia’s direction. The low laugh and half-curtsey Cassiopeia gave in return made Katarina growl again, knuckles white on Fortune’s jerkin as she half-dragged the captain up the stairs.

Noxian decor had always been more function than form, and the du Couteau estate was no exception. The parlor, of course, was elegant enough with its Piltovian-inspired flair—appearances were everything, naturally—but the rest of the sprawling manor-turned-fortress was more traditional in its design. Dark stained wood paneling over rough-hewn stone, black floor tile polished to a shine, walls draped with thick, heavy tapestries depicting scenes in the family’s history, dark, angular,  _ severe _ .

Katarina’s grip on her jacket didn’t allow Fortune the time to look it over and make her usual snide comments about the style. Not that she would have this time around anyway—Fortune was far more interested in the evident temper Katarina had seething in her throat.

Still, Fortune wasn’t expecting to be  _ immediately _ shoved against the edge of the mattress when they reached Katarina’s personal chambers. The door locked behind them, and then Katarina was on her... albeit, not entirely in the typical way.

“Out with it,” she ordered, her grip iron on Fortune’s jaw. Katarina turned her head to both sides, inspecting Fortune’s irises. Her other hand came up to Fortune’s bare throat, pressing two fingers to her pulse. “Did she say what she gave you? If I don’t have the antidote on hand I can go shake her down for it.”

“Kat.” Fortune nearly laughed aloud.

Satisfied with her check of Fortune’s eyes and pulse, Katarina took both Fortune’s hands in hers, turning them over to inspect her palms and wrists. “Was it Silverwort? That’s always been one of Cass’s favorites,” she went on without hearing the interruption. “How’s your hearing? She’s been complaining lately she’s not had anyone to test her new erbok oil on.”

“ _ Kat. _ ” Now Fortune  _ was _ laughing, catching Katarina by both wrists, halting her deft inspection. “Cass didn’t do it.”

“ _ Hm. _ ” Katarina still looked like she didn’t quite believe that, but she allowed Fortune to keep her hold on her wrists, reeling her in to half-straddle her visitor on the edge of her bed. “So, what, you just went out and got yourself poisoned by some no-name upstart?” Her lip curled in a sneer, green eyes flashing with cruel mockery. “Thought you knew better than that.”

Fortune shrugged, a lazy smile crossing her lips. “Happens to the best of us, aye?” She released Katarina’s wrists, drawing rope-roughened fingertips up Katarina’s bared low back. At this distance, it was impossible to miss the stutter in Kat’s breath in reply.

Still, she pressed a hand into Fortune’s sternum, pushing her down to the mattress and straightening up in the same gesture. “Keep it in your pants, Fortune,” she warned. “I don’t fuck around when I don’t know what’s involved.” She crossed back over to a low dresser against the nearby wall, picking up a silvered pitcher and glass.

“Here I’d thought you’d missed me,” Fortune drawled, pushing herself further up the bed, resting against the frigid iron headboard with a wince. The glare Katarina shot over her shoulder was more piercing than any of the knives on her hip. Fortune merely raised a brow, daring her to deny it.

“You should know better than anyone what happens when you assume,” she sneered finally, returning to thrust a glass of water into Fortune’s hands. “Drink. Maybe it’ll thin out whatever bullshit you took.”

“Drake Silkweed from what I’ve been told,” Fortune commented against the rim of the glass.

Katarina gave a particularly unladylike snort, a coil of tension releasing from her shoulders at the concession. “ _ Seriously? _ There’s one I haven’t heard in awhile.” She dropped down onto the mattress, rolling her shoulders and neck out again. “Guess Cass actually wasn’t involved, then. Otherwise you’d be in cardiac arrest instead of... basically your usual annoying-ass self.”

Fortune chuckled and drained the cup. “Should apologize to her.”

“Fuck  _ that _ .” Katarina plucked the glass from her hand, frowning at Fortune’s lazy amusement. “You’re bloody chipper for the idiot who took poison.”

“Not the first time someone’s tried it, Kitty Kat,” Fortune said, waving off her scorn. Katarina bristled at the nickname. “Not gonna be the last time, either. Turns out people get  _ testy  _ when you blow their buddy’s brains out, aye?” Katarina grunted, as close to an agreement as Fortune was likely to get. “Know the difference between me and the hacks who try it?” Fortune leaned back, throwing her arms languidly over the headboard, a cocky smirk curling the corner of her mouth. “I lived, bitch.”

Katarina gave an exaggerated roll of the eyes before twisting around, straddling Fortune’s hips and pinning her to the headboard. “The size of your ego is  _ appalling, _ ” she growled, tossing her ridiculous cap vaguely in the direction of the side table nearby. Her other hand curled around Fortune’s collar again, bracing against her broad shoulder.

“Haven’t heard any complaints abo—” Katarina kissed her roughly, halting the crude innuendo in an instant. Fortune chuckled darkly into the kiss, gladly allowing the interruption, parting her lips to the demanding sting of Katarina’s teeth against her. Her hands slid down from the headboard, resting comfortably on Katarina’s bare waist. She twitched just slightly when Katarina’s free hand slid under the hem of her shirt, breaking away to laugh. “And here you were tellin’  _ me _ to keep it—”

Katarina went for the thin leather strap holster across her chest instantly, and before Fortune could further comment, her own knife was up against her throat. Katarina scowled openly. “Seriously?” she demanded. “They  _ seriously _ let you walk in with this?”

Fortune shrugged, smirking as she lightly traced her thumb over the exposed lines of Katarina’s tattoo. “They were trying pretty hard to  _ not _ stare in that general vicinity, kitten. I don’t let everyone ogle as freely as I let you get away with, y’know.”

Katarina tossed the knife to the floor with a frown. “What else is on you? I saw the boot knife already and I’m throttling every single guard you passed by today about that one. And unless I’m wrong—” She took some amount of pleasure in the strangled noise of surprise Fortune gave when she yanked rough at her belt buckle. “Punch dagger?”

It was rare that she actually caught Sarah Fortune off-guard, but Katarina relished it each time.

“Good eye, kitten,” Fortune murmured after a moment, her surprise sliding easily into heated approval. “Wasn’t sure you’d catch that one. Custom plated. Like it?”

Katarina hummed, running her thumb over the carved face of the River King, seeking the latch that would free the blade. “Too flashy,” she demurred absently, finally flicking the short dagger loose. She braced the blade between her middle and ring fingers with a thoughtful noise, rotating her wrist to get a better feel for it. “Workmanship’s not awful, though. Passable enough heft to it.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Anything else?”

Fortune cocked her head, watching Katarina through her lashes. Katarina wasn’t sure she liked the look of contemplation on her face. Then a slow, sly smile slid onto her expression, and Katarina was  _ quite _ sure she didn’t like it.

“You tell me,  _ Kat _ ,” Fortune dared finally, leaning back against the headboard again. She draped her arms back over the cold metal, intentionally opening herself up for examination.

Katarina’s grip on the dagger faltered. Fortune’s grin broadened.

“You don’t want me to search you like I’d do to any other person hiding a knife in this house,” she said after a moment’s pause, a predatory gleam in her eyes. “Some assassin guilds get so creative with their hiding places, I have to get  _ creative _ trying to find them all.” She tightened her grip on the short blade in her hand, letting the sharp, reinforced tip of the dagger rest against the hollow of Fortune’s throat: a threat and explanation in one.

Fortune didn’t flinch, going so far as to tip her head further back to expose more of her throat, that cocky little smile of hers unwavering.

Katarina’s eyes narrowed. She discarded that dagger to the floor as well. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Fortune,” she warned, heat thrumming through her blood for all Fortune’s boldness irked her.

“I like games,” Fortune said mildly, her hands sliding languidly up Katarina’s thighs. She paused at the blades sheathed there, lightly running her thumbs over the edges, making Katarina twitch. Fortune winked. “Get the feeling you do too.”

Katarina kissed her again just to wipe the look off her face. Fortune chuckled against her, fingers curling to rake her nails over the bared skin at the tops of her hips. Katarina had both Fortune’s wrists in an iron grip instantly, pinning them down against the headboard even as she deepened the kiss with teeth and tongue.

With Katarina’s lips tracing slow, lingering kisses back along her jawline and hands stroking and caressing her arms and shoulders, it took Fortune a few moments to actually notice the whisper of rope around her wrists.

Until she started to shift forward to touch Katarina in kind. Then the snare drew tight and she jerked back.

Katarina sat back on her haunches with a wicked grin, delighting in the look of genuine shock on that pretty face as she tested the bonds.

“Really?” Fortune asked after a moment. Then, with a note of bewildered amusement: “ _ Really? _ ”

“Turns out you were right. I  _ do _ like games,” Katarina admitted with a shrug, making a show of dusting her hands off. “Unfortunately for  _ you _ —” she paused to give Fortune a condescending pat on the cheek “— _ I’ve _ never made claims to play  _ fair. _ ”

Fortune made a face. “Don’t believe I’ve ever accused you of such anyhow.” A pause—then, faintly amused: “So, what, you just... keep rope behind your headboard just in case?”

“What, you don’t?”

And Fortune could only make a noise of acquiescence in her throat to that because, well, they both knew what they knew.

Katarina chuckled, unbuckling the straps at her thighs and laying the sheathed blades carefully on her dresser. Fortune made a curious sound on the bed behind her; Katarina shot a scathing glance over her shoulder. “What? You didn’t think I used  _ these, _ did you?” She scoffed aloud. “Have some class, Fortune. I use these for  _ work. _ ”

“Oh,  _ aye, _ of course,” Fortune sneered. “Forgive me lass, Serpent forbid I accuse the bloody Sinister Blade of  _ unprofessionalism. _ ” Katarina could practically hear her roll her eyes.

“Don’t sound so disappointed, Captain,” she said, raising her voice slightly as she moved to the other side of the dresser, drumming her fingers lightly over the carved wooden lid of an old heirloom jewelry box. She pressed the obscured latches on the sides in and slid the hidden bottom compartment out of the box. “I have something  _ much _ nicer in mind for a pretty thing like you.”

She smirked to herself at the sound of Fortune shifting against the sheets. When she turned around, Fortune had evidently accepted her state and moved down to recline against the pillow, her hands resting slack above her head.

Fortune raised a brow when Katarina finally returned to show her the contents of the wooden box: a pair of small matching knives, scarcely the length of her hand from hilt to tip, both polished to a mirrored sheen.

That the blades were honed sharp enough to whittle hair went without saying. Nothing less would do.

“Pretty,” Fortune noted mildly.

“Birthday present from a few years back. Hadn’t found a good excuse to pull them out again till now.” Katarina lifted one from the case, spinning it on the heel of her hand to show off the engraved silver plating of the handle—the du Couteau crest stamped into the base of the blade.

That seemed to snap Fortune out of her reverie; she snorted softly and offered her a crooked smile. “And you called  _ me _ flashy.”

“You  _ are _ flashy, doll.” Katarina settled into Fortune’s lap again, holding the blade just out of Fortune’s line of sight, admiring the woman bound and trapped beneath her. “Fortunately for you... I  _ like _ flashy.”

Katarina kissed her again, slower now, earnestly, indulging in Fortune’s rare moment of submission. These little...  _ liaisons _ of theirs had become more difficult in recent years to maintain, as they found themselves shouldering increasingly heavy responsibilities that rarely crossed paths anymore. That Fortune had wound up in High Command while Katarina was in residence was a stroke of luck indeed.

To say nothing of the bizarre circumstances that led the bounty hunter  _ here, _ in Katarina’s own household, in her own  _ bed, _ bound and obedient and  _ shuddering _ beneath her at the brush of her hands... and her steel.

Katarina hadn’t ever been one to look a gift basilisk in the mouth.

Fortune grunted in surprise at the sting of teeth on her lip, just shy of enough pressure to draw blood, and gave a ragged gasp when Katarina pulled away to smirk down at her. “Bitch,” she murmured without an ounce of venom. She offered Katarina a sly smile. “Think you missed me after all.”

Katarina tossed her hair back over her shoulder with a scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she teased, trailing her fingertips down the column of Fortune’s throat. Her pulse quickened at the touch, Katarina noticed. The tiniest nick right here, under her fingers, would bleed freely like that. And the angle Fortune was reclining at would leave it to pool at the hollow of her throat.

Mm.  _ Very _ tempting.

But... not yet. A dash of Silkweed in her system might be just enough to dull such a small mark to the point she might not feel it. That was hardly any fun at all.

She wanted Fortune gasping and mewling beneath her—trembling at each precise stroke of the blade across her skin—whimpering at the expectation of the next mark, the next cut.

Fortune sucked in a slow, quivering breath as Katarina’s fingers slid patiently down her throat, coming to rest at her collar bone, silent, contemplative.

At length, Katarina let her eyes flicker up to Fortune’s entranced gaze, watching Fortune watching her. Not a trace of doubt in her expression. She even leaned into the contact when Katarina moved in to kiss her breathless.  _ Interesting. _

“Now then,” Katarina murmured, sitting up entirely to survey her prize. She tapped the silver-gilt pommel of her knife thoughtfully against her lips, admiring the sight of Fortune panting and docile beneath her. “Where to start with  _ you... _ ”

Well. In all honesty, that was an easy one.

Fortune watched her with hazy, lidded eyes as Katarina slowly dragged the dull spine of her dagger down the front of her blouse, steady as she drew a single perfect line down her chest. The tip of the blade reached Fortune’s trousers. Katarina glanced up to gauge a reaction, lifting a brow in silent inquiry. Fortune simply watched her, breaths slow and even at the display.

Katarina made a show of flipping the dagger in hand. She reversed the first movement, tracing the deadly sharp edge up the length of her shirt in an equally steady motion. She put no discernable pressure down, yet the lightest whispering brush of her blade split the fabric cleanly, the linen offering no resistance as Fortune was laid bare before her.

She thought she heard Fortune’s breath catch.

Katarina offered her a thin smile as her knife sliced through the last threads of her top, the blade’s point coming to rest at Fortune’s scarcely-parted lips, waiting, daring.

Fortune met the silent challenge with one of her own: she pressed a taunting kiss to the knife at her lips, neither noticing nor caring about the ease with which the movement split her lower lip. Katarina’s eyes flashed with open desire at the stain of red on her steel. She gave into temptation, bringing the blade to her own lips, watching Fortune’s smug little look flicker into heat when she shamelessly licked the knife clean. Katarina cocked her head. Smirked.

The blood was still warm on her tongue.

Fortune released a slow breath as Katarina returned her attention to her shirt. The flat of her knife rested thoughtfully against her lips for a moment before she made her decision. Fortune tensed at the touch of steel at her bare wrist, but settled again when the blade instead slid harmlessly back down. It sliced cleanly through her sleeve, down to the first cut down her front, and Katarina forced herself to stay collected as she pushed the fabric aside, exposing a broad, freckled shoulder and the familiar spider-web scarring cauterized at the side of her breast. Katarina idly ran a thumb over the familiar, mostly-faded scars.

It always intrigued her, for all Fortune never mentioned it herself. A scar as deep as this one would’ve already bled tremendously anywhere on the body, but this close to the heart? It was a wonder it didn’t kill her... to say nothing of the slipshod field cauterization job.

Fortune’s iron will had long been the stuff of urban legend, but that she had the self-discipline to sear her own flesh back together and still chose to submit  _ here _ left an overwhelming heat coiling in her stomach.

She ducked her head to steal a rough, demanding kiss. Fortune growled against her at the way the motion aggravated her split lip, fighting back with a jut of her chin. Katarina grabbed her jaw in her free hand, digging her fingers against bone as she held the captain still. Teeth grazed rough over the wound, and Fortune uttered a low, ragged sound when Katarina closed her mouth over her lower lip, licking it clean again.

Katarina pulled away to check her handiwork. Those blue eyes glared up at her, hazy with reproach, but she had no other rebuttal forthcoming. Katarina smirked.

“You don’t run the show this time,  _ captain, _ ” she purred. Her painful grip gentled, fingers sliding down to caress Fortune’s exposed throat in equal parts threat and promise. Fortune swallowed hard under her fingertips. Katarina’s smirk widened into a grin. “Admittedly...” She brought her knife up to the cuff of her remaining sleeve, pausing to draw another single, perfectly straight cut down the length of her arm. “...You’re taking this much more...  _ cooperatively _ than I’d thought.”

“Pretty sure it’s standard fare to stay still with a knife on you,” she corrected, twitching slightly as Katarina nudged the remainder of her ruined shirt off her shoulder with the blade. “You’re exactly petty enough to—” She hissed through her teeth when Katarina turned her wrist just enough to nick the edge of her collarbone.

Katarina grinned down at her. “Oops.”

“Yeah, that,” she grunted. “Bitch.”

“It was just your shoulder,” Katarina said, flicking her fingers dismissively. “You’ll live. Now...” She traced a finger from the tiny, barely-bleeding wound down under her arm. “ _ Here _ on the other hand... That could be cause for worry.”

Fortune twitched reflexively at the ticklish sensation and stilled again, breaths slow and deep.

Cold green eyes narrowed to slits as Katarina thought, smiling like a drake-hound on a blood trail. “I think it’s interesting how few armorers protect under the arm... I can only suppose they’re unaware of how  _ easy _ it is to fit a knife under pauldrons and then—!” She gave a low, pleased hum, carefully drawing the spine of her dagger over Fortune’s skin where she’d pointed out. Fortune stayed very, very still, watching her with an inscrutable intensity in her eyes.  “It’s so very  _ difficult _ to clamp a severed axillary out in the field... most bleed out in moments.”

“If it’s—” Fortune paused to clear the rasp from her throat, ignoring the flash of delight in Katarina’s expression at the sound. “If it’s all the same to you, I do tend to prefer my major arteries in one piece, love.”

Katarina laughed softly, leaning down to kiss the wry grin from her lips. “I tend to prefer you in one piece, myself.” Her free hand slid up Fortune’s abdomen, mapping over the rugged muscle only briefly before sliding higher, palming her breast, tugging rough at a pierced nipple. Fortune groaned against her mouth, pushing into the touch. Katarina broke away with a smirk. “See, just don’t get that kind of reaction when you’re bleeding out.”

“Kat,” Fortune deadpanned, “I am  _ actually begging you _ to not make necrophilia jokes while you’re fucking me. I have  _ some _ standards.”

Katarina scoffed aloud. “News to me.” Even so, she let the moment pass, far more interested in sloughing off her own top and kissing the life out of her prize again. The heat of skin on skin was enough to make her groan.

Fortune twitched again when Katarina’s attention wandered down to her throat, kissing and nipping at the rabbit-quick tattoo of her pulse. Her hand kept busy, mapping out the old familiar nicks and scars that littered her skin and finding new ones as she went. This many scars on an assassin would be shameful at best—Katarina had the distinct dishonor of wearing her shame openly—but on a bounty hunter, on her, it was  _ painfully _ attractive.

To say nothing of the way Fortune shuddered under her as she lazily dragged her fingers down the line of soft red hair low on her stomach, pausing at the waistband of her trousers.

She toyed with the half-missing clasp of Fortune’s belt for a moment before finally sliding it loose, discarding the belt to the side of the bed. Too much hassle to try to cut through cleanly with this particular knife. And she didn’t feel like  _ actually _ accidentally stabbing her.

“Stop squirming,” Katarina ordered as she brought the blade to Fortune’s hip, slicing carefully down the outside of her trousers. This cloth was heavier, required a heavier hand to cut through. A punctured femoral tended to be a moodkill.

Fortune growled in something approaching irritation, but she stilled. “This is gonna be real funny when I have to leave,” she scoffed when the blade cut through the hem at her ankle. “Didn’t exactly bring a bloody change of clothes.” Her breath hitched when Katarina raked her nails up the newly-exposed skin, purposefully dragging scarlet welts into her thigh.

“You started this,” Katarina told her, entirely unrepentant as she moved to cut her out of the last of her garments. “Lack of foresight aside, there’s no fraying; it’s an easy repair job. It’ll give the servants something to do.”

“Oh, aye, of course, the bloody servants.” Fortune rolled her eyes.

Then she could only a strangled gasp at the sting of teeth on her thigh. Katarina flashed her a brief smirk as she finally laid Fortune bare before her.

Fortune trembled at the gentle movement of Katarina’s knife tip over the soft jut of her hip bone, her eyes all but closed as she struggled to compose herself. As though Katarina were completely blind to the sheen on her inner thighs, to the scent of her desire so close to the source. Katarina pressed a kiss to that hip that lasted just too long to be chaste.

“Did you know you have a major artery right... here,” she murmured against Fortune’s soft skin, dragging her tongue down her hip, down to the soft of her thigh. Fortune shivered at the touch—and again at the glance of cold steel on her flushed skin. Katarina watched Fortune’s expression intently as the tip of her blade came to rest delicately at the inner crook of her thigh, achingly close to where Fortune so blatantly wanted her. “I could slide this inside you right here,” Katarina added in a purr, grinning at the way Fortune’s pupils blew at the cruel promise. She let the dagger rest there till a tiny bead of blood welled at its tip. Katarina dragged it slowly down Fortune’s inner thigh. “All I’d have to do is slip the knife down this thigh a couple inches... You’d be dead in minutes.”

“Your pillow talk fuckin’  _ sucks, _ ” Fortune whispered with a breathy little laugh. Her thighs inched wider apart in clear and open invitation regardless.

“Your pretty cunt likes it,” Katarina taunted, swiping two fingers through her slick folds, relishing the sharp gasp the motion drew from the feared, powerful captain beneath her. She held up her hand, smug, waggling her fingers to show off the way they glistened—and then pressed the digits against Fortune’s full, trembling lips in silent demand.

Fortune obeyed, tongue bathing over the two fingers Katarina slipped into her mouth, cleaning her own mess from her. Katarina huffed softly as Fortune half-teasingly suckled her fingers, a lazy sort of humor in those lust-darkened eyes. She curled her fingers, pressing Fortune’s tongue down, and for a brief moment she considered sliding her fingers deeper, finger-fucking that smug, all-too-fucking-willing mouth of hers, reminding Fortune of  _ who, _ precisely, held the control here.

But.

She drew her fingers slowly from Fortune’s lips instead. Not tonight. Another time, perhaps. For now, she had the whole of Fortune’s soft, gorgeous body open as a canvas for this perverse art of hers, and Katarina intended to  _ indulge. _

Fortune nearly groaned as Katarina traced her slick fingers over her torso, idly toying with the sensitive piercings in her nipples. Her breath stuttered at a sharp twisting tug on one, a pretty blush staining her cheeks at the rough treatment.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to play like this,” Katarina sighed wistfully, words hanging deliberately in the still night air. “It’s just not as  _ fun _ without a willing participant.” She splayed her fingers over Fortune’s sternum, feeling the steady pulse of her heartbeat beneath her palm. She dragged her fingers down, admiring the softness of the skin under her fingertips. “But you know... I get the feeling you’re enjoying this just as much as I am. Hm?”

The cold steel met Fortune’s warm sternum. Katarina drew her knife down with the exacting precision of a surgeon, watching with rapt attention as she etched a single, perfect wound down Fortune’s chest, a thin scarlet line that barely began to bead as she reached Fortune’s navel.

Katarina let out a slow, controlled breath and pulled the knife away.

Her gaze flickered up to Fortune’s. Those wide blue eyes watched her silently, intensely—fearful, perhaps.

Longing, perhaps.

A slow, wicked grin tugged at Katarina’s lips. She ran the pad of her thumb up the cut, admiring the faint smear it left behind.

“Haven’t ever really realized how fair you are before,” Katarina noted aloud, wearing her hunger openly as she admired the sight of her favorite fuck-buddy here, tied down in her bed, body bare and open and vulnerable. “I forgot how pretty blood looks on skin this pale.”

Fortune stifled a whimper, holding very still as Katarina’s knife gently traced the soft curves below her breasts, drawing two new shallow, barely-bleeding mirror wounds on her. “Kat, that’s  _ creepy, _ ” she tried to protest, laughing weakly—biting her lip at the brush of steel over her ribs. “You’re fuckin’  _ creepy. _ ”

Katarina shrugged and offered her a thin smile, unbothered by the statement.

Patience had never been a virtue of hers, but she remained steady here. Each carefully etched curve and whorl on one side of Fortune’s chest was patiently mirrored on the other side. Fortune trembled weakly beneath her touch, breaths slow and desperate, whimpering faintly each time the blade drew over her bare skin. A pattern formed slowly, line by line, a lazy, spiraling design that wrapped across her ribs, over her tits, framing her hips in a cruel mockery of bloody filigree that left Katarina’s free hand slick with scarlet as she reverently drew her fingertips over the living ajoure.

Fortune laid obediently beneath her, silent and willing.

“ _ Well _ now,” Katarina murmured, unable to disguise the rough rasp of desire on her lips as she sat up to admire her handiwork. “Don’t  _ you _ look pretty?”

“You  _ would _ turn this into a whole  _ thing, _ ” Fortune half-groaned, pupils blown as she leaned up just enough to look down at herself.

Katarina leaned down to meet Fortune in the middle, kissing her more softly than she thought herself capable of. Fortune sighed into the kiss, parting her lips to Katarina’s, and that was all the encouragement she needed. Katarina pressed into her fully, bare skin against skin, ignoring (or perhaps reveling in) the slide of Fortune’s wounds bleeding hot and wet between them. Katarina’s teeth grazed over Fortune’s lip, cruel and demanding, reopening the split and drawing her tongue over the wound again when Fortune gasped.

She wondered if Fortune was coherent enough to notice that Katarina absolutely dripped where she ground herself against Fortune’s thigh.

She wondered if Fortune was coherent enough to care that she was making a mess of Katarina’s own thigh in return.

Katarina carelessly wiped the bloody stain on her hand off on her own trousers. “To think you’ve been fussing the whole way through,” she teased, slipping the hand between Fortune’s thighs, cupping her just to feel her heat. Fortune  _ gasped, _ bucking rough into the friction. Katarina smirked and ground the heel of her hand against her, drawing a strangled growl from her. “And people say  _ I’m _ fucked up.”

Fortune looked like she had something to say to that. Two fingers sinking deftly inside her said she didn’t.

It wasn’t quite common knowledge that Captain Fortune loved to be fucked. Katarina counted herself lucky to be one of the few who knew it firsthand.

“I think you’ve been enjoying this more than you let on, doll,” she murmured, admiring the way Fortune’s chest heaved with her soft, gasping breaths. Katarina purred at the feeling of Fortune taking her easily up to the knuckle. “You’re  _ dripping _ .”

“Fuck off,” Fortune whispered hoarsely, letting her head drop back against the pillows.

“That’s the idea. Although...” Katarina cocked her head as her gaze meandered over Fortune’s chest, hot and lingering. A slow smile tugged at her lips. “How still do you think you can hold for me, darling?” The flash of light off the silver handle of the knife Katarina lazily twirled in hand got Fortune’s attention again.

If Fortune intended to answer at all, the curl of Katarina’s palm against her clit kept her quiet... or at least speechless.

Katarina in turn suddenly found herself unspeakably delighted with her father’s insistence upon her taking lessons in penmanship as a child. She wasn’t sure she’d ever see another vision so perfect as Sarah Fortune submissive beneath her, molten around her fingers, blood welling in the cradle of her hips where KATARINA DU COUTEAU was carved in perfect, practiced calligraphy.

She did so love to lay claim to that which was  _ hers, _ after all.

And Fortune was too fucking  _ perfect _ like this to let the opportunity pass her by.

A languid curl of the fingers, a slip of the thumb, and Katarina finally gave into the desire scorching hot in her blood. She lowered herself to the mattress.

“ _ Hah— _ ” Fortune arched into the touch of Katarina’s lips and teeth and tongue between her thighs, rocking eagerly into the attention. Katarina wrapped an arm about one of those powerful thighs, keeping her prize spread wide open as she took, and  _ took. _

Fortune had always responded beautifully to this sweeter torture: gasping, panting, writhing against the cruel press of Katarina’s studded tongue over every inch of her cunt. She drove her tongue hard against Fortune’s heat, dragging her filed nails viciously over the etchings on Fortune’s thighs in turn just to further irritate the wounds. The sharp pain drew a startled yelp out of her plaything. Katarina dug in deeper, pressing her lips around that aching clit, drawing rough circles against the swollen flesh with her tongue. Fortune shouted at the shock of mixed sensation, bucking hard against Katarina’s mouth even so.

_ Fuck, _ but she loved making this woman come undone for her.

Fortune was already so unbelievably wet for her, so soft and hot, so eager to be held down and claimed in the baseness of blood and sweat and sex, and Katarina could not fucking  _ stand _ that it’d taken her this long to put a knife to Fortune’s chest. Fortune rutted against her touch even now, dripping against Katarina’s lips and chin with all the desperate fervor of a tavern whore. Katarina dug her nails in and pressed rougher into her, forgoing technique for pressure and contact.

It was enough.

Fortune came gracelessly to pieces under her, shouting hoarsely into the sticky evening air, thighs flexing hard against her cheeks, fingers carding through her hair, hips rocking desperately against her tongue. Katarina ate her through it till Fortune swore with the overstimulation, shoving her away with a ragged gasp. She surged up, fingers tangling rough into Fortune’s sweat-slick hair, pulling her into a demanding kiss, stealing the very breath from her lungs as Fortune’s nails raked angry welts down her spine.

It took Katarina entirely too long to realize, in retrospect. In fact, it wasn’t till their kisses had long since gentled to something entirely slow and indulgent that she did. Even then, it was only because Fortune’s hands trembled when she moved to cup Katarina’s jaw.

“Wait—wait, what the  _ fuck, _ ” Katarina muttered, confused, shoving Fortune back by the shoulders so she could get enough space to get both her breath and her wits back. She grabbed Fortune’s wrists, remarkably free of rope or indeed even the  _ markings _ of rope, her expression twisting in genuine bewilderment as she inspected her hands. Fortune allowed it, regarding her with a positively  _ insufferably _ smug smirk. “Fortune, what the  _ actual _ fuck?” she demanded, equal parts insulted and impressed. “When the  _ fuck _ did you have the time to undo these?”

Fortune’s grin broadened as she slid easily out of the grip, hands sliding down to grip possessively at Katarina’s hips. “Oh,  _ darling, _ ” she purred, a threat and temptation all in the single word. Katarina found herself feeling suddenly entirely too warm. “You know I’m a  _ sailor, _ right? There’s not a knot in the world you’d be able to keep me in.”

Katarina scowled. “How  _ long, _ Fortu—”

“About when you started ripping up my shirt. You seemed distracted enough by then.”

“What, the  _ whole time? _ ” Now she  _ was _ a little insulted. Then—bewildered again. “You kept your hands up the whole time, too, though. I would’ve noticed  _ that. _ What the fuck were you—?”

Fortune chuckled, low and dangerous, mindless of the blood still drying on her chest when she dragged Katarina closer. “Seemed more fun that way,” she teased, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down her throat. A particular weakness of Katarina’s she loved to remind her of. “ _ You _ seemed to be having more fun for sure.”

Katarina twitched at the slightest scrape of teeth against her pulse. Good gods. She’d run a razor-edged knife over nearly every inch of Fortune’s torso and her hands hadn’t so much as flinched the entire damn time. Just because she wanted to let Katarina take the lead. Shit, she’d actually laid there willingly and let Katarina finger-fuck her while carving her fucking signature into her skin, knowing full well she could’ve whipped the knife from Katarina’s grasp at any point. And she hadn’t so much as moved. Because Fortune wanted that.

Fuck. That was so,  _ so _ unbelievably hot.

“My  _ god, _ Fortune, you’re fucking  _ depraved, _ ” Katarina realized with some awe, not sure if she was more impressed or aroused by that fact.

Fortune cackled in delight at her comprehension, nipping her way up to Katarina’s ear. “Aye,” she said, the grin on her face clearly audible as her hands slid down to Katarina’s belt. “Now then... Why don’t you shut up and relax awhile?”

**Author's Note:**

> _You've got me curious_  
>  Why you're so furious  
> Bitch, lay your head down  
> Shut up and relax awhile 
> 
> title & ending line comes from ["Come Back" by Orgy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-czc_k_yoQ8)
> 
> an aside, the lyrics online purport to be different than what i hear them as but i like my misheard lyrics better so like. whatever. here we are


End file.
